


Phone A Friend

by rain_sleet_snow



Series: A Question Of Trust [5]
Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blade asks the one person he feels he can trust on this to tell him what he did wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone A Friend

            That evening when Blade got home, he went straight up to his room, ignoring Matt, Ross and Finn, who piled into the kitchen and immediately began to speculate on their housemate’s odd (or at least, odder than usual) behaviour. Unlike the previous day, he wasn’t angry, just thoughtful; Matt remembered his conversation with Eric, and wondered what the hell had happened. He itched to go upstairs and cross-question Blade, but he vividly remembered Blade stamping into the house the previous evening, drenched from head to foot, his green eyes burning with undisguised anger, and had no wish to drag up whatever it was that had upset the other man so much. Apart from anything else, a knife in the jugular was seldom welcome, so Matt erred on the side of caution and stuck to gossiping madly with Ross and Finn in the kitchen.

 

            Blade himself shut the bedroom door behind him, and bolted it as a further precaution. Then he flopped down on the bed, and thought.

 

            Eric wasn’t stupid, he knew, and Lorraine could be an open book if you knew her well enough; the little tics and flickers of expressions, the habits, the careful choice of words in order to lie without lying (Blade had never found himself differing between _I’m fine_ and _I’m all right_ before), they could give away almost everything there was to know about Lorraine. But you had to know her very, very well first, and Blade had been certain that he did.

 

            So, since he was forced to admit that Eric was probably right and Lorraine was unhappy, how had he missed out on it?  Eric was right to say that he’d walked straight out, when his brain had caught up with his mouth and he’d realised what he was saying to his girlfriend, and that would mean he didn’t see the truth of her reaction. But he’d seen her today, and surely nothing could have masked Lorraine’s discomfort-

 

            _Nothing but pride_ , a small, snide voice whispered in the back of his mind. Blade grimaced at the ceiling, a sick certainty pooling in his stomach. Pride would do it, yes; pride would make Lorraine hide how she felt from him, iron out the shake in her voice, but she wouldn’t be able to hide for long- and she wouldn’t _have_ to, because they’d been avoiding each other. Hadn’t she done exactly the same thing when she was plagued by nightmares, afraid and alone and forcing herself to keep going? She wouldn’t think to hide fear from Jenny, or from Eric: she had probably not even realised that others knew her well enough to read her.

 

            “Oh, _fuck_ ,” Blade said with real feeling. On an impulse, he sat up, and reached for his mobile phone. There was only one person he could tell about this- who he could rely on to keep it a secret, and not to take the piss. Blade was still smarting from Eric’s furious rant earlier on, and all the worse for the idea growing in his head that Eric might have been right; he needed to talk to someone, but he felt his options to be rather constricted. Eric, if consulted, would simply swear at him and hang up. Finn wouldn’t have anything useful to say, and Ross would be too startled to answer. Matt would be sympathetic, but he’d tell Ditzy and probably Wilkes and Trouble, because the Medic Mafia overrode almost every consideration of decency and not telling your mates’ deepest secrets at the ARC, and God knew Blade didn’t need serial monogamists like Ditzy and Trouble taking extra pains with stitches that hurt and antiseptics that stung in revenge for his treatment of Lorraine. He only had one choice, really; the boss might rip the shit out of him for what he’d done, but he wouldn’t go spreading it around.

 

            Blade fished through the contacts book in his phone, pointedly ignoring the number labelled _Lorraine_ , until he got to _Ryan_. He hesitated for a moment, and then dialled the number.

 

            “Hello?”

 

            Blade felt an inexplicable sense of relief at the familiar voice. If anyone could explain this, the boss could. “Hi, boss- it’s me, Blade.”

 

            “Keep telling you stupid buggers to stick to Ryan now,” Ryan remarked, but his voice was warm. “Fuck knows you never do it. I sometimes think you were all born selectively deaf. What’s the problem, Blade?”

 

            “How do you know there’s a problem?” Christ, he sounded defensive even to himself.

 

            “Why else would you call me? What have you done, Blade?”

 

            “I’m... not sure.” Blade hesitated. “I know... Lorraine...” He zeroed in on one, inescapable fact. “I fucked up, badly. And I don’t- completely understand.”

 

            Ryan sighed. “I’m starting to feel like an agony aunt. Tell me anyway.”

 

            “Last night... Lorraine and I had a _huge_ row. And I... walked out. The next morning, I was- wishing I hadn’t, and Anders asked me why Lorraine looked like death warmed up and why she’d come into work so early. I went to find her... looked everywhere... found her on the range with Quinn. (New guy. Worse than Cutter for buggering off to play the hero.) He thinks he’s a good shot.” He paused, edited his forthcoming sentence, and managed to get it out without grinding his teeth too much. “You know Lorraine’s stance is a bit off-“

 

            “Yes-“

 

            “-well, he tried to fix it for her.”

 

            There was a brief pause while Ryan envisaged the scene and Blade forced himself to relax. “Oh,” Ryan said neutrally, when he’d finished imagining. “Did he survive?”

 

            “Yeah, he lived. Lorraine tried the right way, missed, he said something patronising, she had another go the way she usually stands, and essentially beat the shit out of him. But...”

 

            “You’re jealous,” Ryan said flatly.

 

            Blade was silent.

 

            Ryan sighed again. “I can’t see this ending well.”

 

            “I... It didn’t. I... told – we had another argument.”

 

            “Yes? And?”

 

            “I asked her to forget about it.”

 

            There was a slapping noise, and a groan. It sounded very much as if Ryan had just smacked his face in total despair.

 

            “Boss? Er, Ryan?”

 

            “I’m fine, I’m fine... You, on the other hand, are a twat.”

 

            Blade flinched. “That’s what Eric said to me.”

 

            “Who’s Eric?” Ryan demanded. “Get back to the point!”

 

            “Eric’s her brother. He’s just joined the ARC as a pathologist, and he saw that Lorraine wasn’t happy, and... pretty much... cornered me and told me to sort myself out.”

 

            “I like him already,” Ryan said grimly. “Lorraine’s brother aside, why are you telling _me_ about this?”

 

            “Because I- look, I don’t- I don’t _get_ what I did wrong,” Blade said in a rush, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I fucked up badly and I know I did, but... I... how do I...”

 

            “How do you fix it?” Ryan enquired.

 

            “No, actually... that involves a lot of saying sorry. I think. Also I think I have to manage that one myself, or she’ll _know_. I mean... What did I get _wrong_?”

 

            Ryan drew in a sharp breath. “This could be a long conversation.”

 

            “I don’t care. I mean, I- I don’t want to waste your time-“

 

            “I was bored. You’ve acted like a twat, and trying to help you fix that is irritating, but not boring.” Ryan sighed. “Right. What actually made you angry? That she disagreed with you?”

 

            “No! No.” Blade sighed. “That was... I was tired and cut up and pissed off, and I wasn’t being reasonable, and she called me on it and I know  I shouldn’t have done it and I _wouldn’t_ have done it, normally.” He hesitated. “Or at least I wouldn’t have told her that she didn’t know what she was talking about.”

 

            “Idiot. Not you, Stephen- Blade.”

 

            There was a very ominous “Oh,” heard dimly in the background, and then a mumble in Stephen’s voice that Blade couldn’t quite catch.

 

            “Stephen says to tell you to get your head out of your arse and stop upsetting your girlfriend.”

 

            “ _Stephen_ knows?” Blade yelped. “Lorraine _told_ him?”

 

            “Apparently she and Stephen were on the range at the same time and she asked him if he’d ever been afraid of me,” Ryan said grimly. “Niall, if she’s scared of you, you have fucked up _badly_.”

 

            “I know, I _know_!” Blade shouted.

 

            There was a sharp thumping on the floor- Ross’s ceiling. He was evidently sick of the noise. Sulkily, Blade toned it down. “I. Know. That’s why I need you to help me, because I want this to work so fucking much, and because I can’t ask anyone else- Eric, obviously not, her own brother and pissed off at me right now, Finn’ll just nod and smile and it’ll all have gone in one ear and out the other, Matt’ll tell the rest of the Medic Mafia... I don’t know who else to ask. How do I stop this happening? How do I stop myself... reacting like this?”

 

            “Reacting to what?” Ryan demanded, and since Blade was perfectly aware that Ryan knew exactly what he meant, he must be wanting Blade to admit it out loud.

 

            “To Lorraine letting Danny touch her. To her flirting with him. To being jealous. I mean, Ryan, I always have been jealous, I- I don’t want her to leave me but I know it’d probably be better for her if she did, she doesn’t need me...”

 

            “Hmm.” Ryan sounded more thoughtful than scornful now; Blade crossed his fingers for not losing an eardrum to the boss’s fury. “Well... I know what you mean. Been here, done this.”

 

            “What- Stephen?” Blade was a little startled. “Everyone thought you were okay with...” He wasn’t sure how to end that sentence. Stephen Hart’s default setting was flirtation; he’d been referred to on more than one occasion as Hart the Tart, and for good reason, although he’d calmed down a little since getting into a serious relationship with Ryan.

 

            “Yeah,” Ryan said dryly. “Well done, Einstein. And no, I wasn’t fine with it. I pretended I was but I wasn’t, and the thing about being that close to someone is they pick up on jealousy even if it isn’t as blindingly obvious as yours. Stephen realised I didn’t trust him, and that upset him.”

 

            “But I do trust L-“

 

            “You trust her to do her job and most of everyone else’s perfectly,” Ryan interrupted ruthlessly. “You trust her not to shoot you. You trust her to keep your secrets. You trust her not to read your post. What you don’t trust her to do is love you enough to stay with you.”

 

            Blade fell silent. He couldn’t see his own face, but he knew that his teeth would be gritted hard together, his face white with anger- but then... that was the problem, wasn’t it?

 

            _He’s telling you the truth_ , he told himself, forcing himself to calm down. This was just like being talked at by Eric, but without Eric’s oddball humour to break up the lesson, and consequently, it hurt more. _It’s your own fucking fault it’s a truth you don’t like._

 

            “Digested that yet?” Ryan enquired.

 

            “Yes,” Blade said. “I think.”

 

            “You’d better have! You at least know that you’re out of order with the jealousy thing; that’s a start. You also know you’ve got to say sorry. Hmm... Tell her why you get jealous. Lorraine likes to understand things, I think.”

 

            “She likes rules,” Blade said quietly. “She likes... everything in its place.”

 

            “Great. Tell her, then. Just talk to her. Say sorry, yes, but keep talking. She isn’t going to forget, mate, whether you want her to or not. Life doesn’t come with a rewind button. You have to trust her for her to trust you, and you need to explain why you did what you did, and that you know it was wrong, and that you’re sorry and you’ll try and control it.” There was a tapping noise, as if Ryan was flipping a pen against the edge of a table. “She does love you. Any idiot can see that. She does need you, as much as you need her. She won’t leave you unless you push her away, which you’re halfway to doing now.” There was a pause. “I nearly did that to Stephen. Don’t make the same mistake.”

 

            “Okay,” Blade said, slowly. “I understand.”

 

            “You’d better, Niall Richards,” Ryan said. “Talk to her. You’re still coming round on Saturday and Stephen and I will _know_ if you’ve bottled out before then.”

 

            He cut the call, and Blade stared blankly at his mobile

 

            _Talk to her._

 

            He could do that.

 

            He opened a new text message, and typed out ‘can we talk?’, and, after a second’s pause, ‘r u ok? love u.’ He chose Lorraine’s name from the log of recently used numbers- it was at the top –and then hesitated, thinking.

 

             It was nine o’clock. He suspected that Lester, who occasionally noticed if his secretary was out of sorts, would by now have prised her from her desk and sent her home on the grounds that she was exhausted, and she was probably already asleep; what Anders had said about her early arrival made it seem more than likely that she hadn’t slept last night. She might well have – he hoped to God she had – simply gone home, taken a shower, and fallen into bed to get some decent sleep.

 

            He didn’t want to wake her. He never liked doing it, seeing her snatching a little rest and peace for once, seeing her genuinely at peace the way she hardly ever was when she was awake, but it was even worse when it was his fault she was so wrecked. He knew her mobile’s ringtone would wake her immediately, and she would follow it up immediately, and what with one thing and another she wouldn’t sleep for hours. If she asked him to come over and talk to her, face to face - which would probably be best – he wouldn’t get there now till quarter to ten at the earliest. How long would it take them to deal with this? A long time, probably.

 

            Blade closed his eyes, and an image of her from just days before came into his mind; fast asleep, the tired set of her face easing, loose-limbed with the duvet wrapped roughly around her, a picture of weariness. He couldn’t stop her sleeping; he couldn’t screw her up more than he already had, adding to her already catastrophic sleep debt. He’d made enough mistakes. He had to leave her to her rest: just because he wanted this now, wanted the reassurance of at least trying to sort this out, didn’t mean that she should have to drag herself from sleep to give it to him.

 

            He put the phone down. He’d do it tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Final part, by Fi! http://fififolle.livejournal.com/189143.html


End file.
